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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475261">I'll Find Another One Better Than You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/youshallnotfinditso/pseuds/youshallnotfinditso'>youshallnotfinditso</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Social Network (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, divya/cameron endgame, mark/eduardo endgame, poor sex etiquette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:02:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/youshallnotfinditso/pseuds/youshallnotfinditso</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as Divya Narendra was concerned, there was only one thing worse than seeing Mark Zuckerberg’s face in the Crimson for the second time in less than a month. And that was Mark Zuckerberg grinning into the camera with his arm around someone Divya had absolutely had a messy hookup with after a Fly party last year. The photo caption identified him as Eduardo Saverin, co-founder and CFO of thefacebook. </p><p>What was life but a bowl of fucking cherries.</p><p>(Or, the one where everyone has to sleep with the wrong person to get to the right person).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cameron Winklevoss/Mark Zuckerberg, Divya Narendra/Cameron Winklevoss, Divya Narendra/Eduardo Saverin, Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Find Another One Better Than You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was largely inspired by phonecallfromgod's Fake Dating to Win Friends and Influence People, so if you like this one you should definitely check that out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Divya was not, generally, in the habit of befriending Classics majors. For one thing, most of them had a career trajectory of closed circuit academia, except a select few who’d take until grad school to figure out they wanted to do something else with their lives entirely and vanish to Europe or Bali or law school, never to be heard from again. For another, most of them were pretty goddamned condescending considering the best they could hope for career-wise was tenure at a liberal arts school in one of the panhandle states.</p><p>But damned if they didn’t always have a line out for the really good gossip.</p><p>“So what I know is that Davis went home with <i>someone</i>.” Divya’s old freshman-level philosophy acquaintance Adrian said over a breakfast so late it might as well have been brunch. “The only question is, was it his ex,” he leaned forward across the table for emphasis. “Or was it one of those crew twins. You know the ones?”</p><p>The latest edition of the Crimson was open beneath Divya’s breakfast tray, possibly even to the sports section, where the most recent coastal recap heaped another week’s worth of praise to the efforts of Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, class of ’04. Knew them? Divya didn’t even care for athletics and he could still recite their stats in his sleep.</p><p>But Adrian liked an audience and Divya liked having an ear to the ground without having to take his own focus off homework, Entrepreneurship Society, and internship postings. So Divya swallowed his pride and widened his eyes like the good little socialite he pretended to be every other weekend. “I guess I’ve seen them around, but … you really think so?”</p><p>Adrian took a very long sip of London Fog. Divya supposed he could appreciate the theatrics of it. “All I’m saying is they showed up together and then one left the party <i>hours</i> before the other one. And you know who else left that early? Davis. I’ll leave the speculation up to you.”</p><p>Divya wasn’t actually sure which of Davis’s exes they were even talking about this week, so he didn’t have a dog in that fight, but if it had been one of the Winklevoss twins? Well.</p><p><i>That</i> was interesting.</p><p>“But Davis hasn’t said anything, right? Don’t you think that’s the kind of thing you’d wanna kiss and tell about?”</p><p>Adrian grabbed his wrist. “Oh <i>god</i>, Divya, <i>no</i>, he’s still trying to get back together with Henry! And you can’t ask him about anything I just told you — he’ll never take me anywhere again. And he was <i>just</i> promising to get me into one of those little Shriners parties, sweetheart you cannot blow my chances to window shop for a Kennedy.”</p><p>Divya’s ears pricked up at that. “Wait, who does <i>Davis</i> know from a final club?”</p><p>Adrian released Divya’s wrist to wave his hand dismissively. “God knows.”</p><p>“Don’t the twins tend to get invited to those parties?”</p><p>“Ohhhh I see where this is going. Oh <i>honey</i>,” Adrian cooed, and Divya’s stomach twisted with irritation. “You wanna hit that?”</p><p>“I was honestly just asking,” Divya said, terse.</p><p>Because the thing was, he wasn’t <i>opposed</i> to the idea, but Divya was pretty good at weighing his odds. It was how he’d gotten his high school scholarship. How he’d been elected Prom King as one of the biggest geeks in his graduating class. How he’d gotten into the only Ivy League university he’d dared to include on his list and hit the ground running.</p><p>Why he hadn’t even <i>tried</i> to get punched by a final club even though he was captivated by them.</p><p>If whichever possibly gay twin was hooking up with guys like Davis DuPont, Divya wasn’t going to turn his head.</p><p>He could live with that.</p><p>But it wouldn’t be so bad to have other gay friends. Especially ones who didn’t think he was an adorable curiosity just because he’d never licked ecstasy out of someone’s asshole at an orgy in SoHo or filmed an avant-garde sex tape on a bearskin rug.</p><p>Unfortunately, there wasn’t a classy way to say ‘Actually, I’d like to trade up from you to someone who does attend class’ over breakfast.</p><p>“Alright, <i>maybe</i> I’m interested, if Davis isn’t staking a claim,” Divya relented, eyes darting away in feigned embarrassment.</p><p>“Then I <i>will</i> get you into that party, sweetheart,” Adrian promised, flitty and sweet as a glass of champagne, eyes raking over Divya with amusement. He didn’t think Divya could score some crew jock, who were they both kidding? But he clearly thought the attempt would be something to talk about.</p><p>Whatever. They weren’t really friends anyway.</p><p>—</p><p>The Winklevoss twins were well-dressed, gorgeous, and larger than fucking life.</p><p>And they mostly kept to themselves. Which was less than ideal.</p><p>“Just go talk to them,” Davis said, bored, poking Divya at the small of his back. Divya swallowed down the urge to beg <i>What was</i> your <i>opener with them?</i> Because jesus, he wasn’t fucking shy. He was good at socializing.</p><p>It was just, generally he opened by offering to share his notes after class, or found a common enemy to start bitching about. Generally, he had a <i>foothold</i>. And the twins, ducked into a corner by themselves looking bored, looked about as scalable as a wall of ice.</p><p>“I’m strategizing,” he said, and Davis snorted.</p><p>“You math geeks are like a completely different species.”</p><p>“Alright we can’t all be built like a marble statue, fuck off. Some of us have to be charming to get laid,” Divya snapped.</p><p>“<i>Touchy</i>.”</p><p>“I said you were built, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Well just so you know, I can be <i>very</i> charming when the <i>company</i> is good,” he said, patting Divya on the back twice to sink the dig home. God, Divya needed new friends. “And speaking of good company, I should probably try to find some. Good luck with the twins.” He gave a little grimace that screamed <i>Not that it’ll help</i>, and Divya rolled his eyes back.</p><p>All he’d needed Davis for was getting in the door, anyway. He was fine. He could do this.</p><p>He tried not to scan the room desperately for Adrian like a lost little kid.</p><p>There was a group of what sounded like Econ majors nearby talking about a professor Divya’d had for an overlapping Real Analysis class. He’d probably be able to slide into that conversation with very little awkwardness.</p><p>But he <i>really</i> wanted to talk to the twins.</p><p>He stole another glance, letting his gaze linger when it was clear they weren’t looking around.</p><p>As seemed to be the unfortunate reality with identical twins, one was significantly hotter than the other. Or maybe it was just the way his styled hair and pressed pants screamed effort in a way his brother’s mismatched socks simply did not.</p><p>Not that it mattered. Adrian was the one window shopping, not him.</p><p>He meant to look away then — seriously, the last thing he wanted was to get caught staring — but movement caught his attention, so he watched with mild curiosity as the more put-together twin lifted his brother’s drink out of his hand and took a sip. Grimaced.</p><p>He didn’t give it back, though. And then he handed <i>his</i> over.</p><p>It was weird. Why switch drinks if he didn’t like it?</p><p>The other twin shook his head, rolling his eyes affectionately, and then—</p><p>It was like someone on a TV screen looking directly into the camera, the way Divya didn’t really realize he was being looked at, being <i>noticed</i>, until it was too late.</p><p>The less stylish twin smirked as he nudged his brother, called his attention to Divya and then just fucking <i>left</i>. Peeled himself off the wall and made himself scarce, leaving Divya to hold charged eye contact with the one who stayed behind.</p><p>He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was the hotter one.</p><p>Divya straightened his posture and resisted the urge to fuss with his hair as he walked over. This was probably as close to an opening as he was going to get, and he’d be an idiot to let the window close without at least <i>trying</i>.</p><p>“Looks like we both got stranded,” Divya said, leaning against the wall next to whichever Winklevoss.</p><p>“Looks like it,” the twin agreed, face blank.</p><p>Silence stretched between them.</p><p>It felt like a game of chicken, so Divya waited.</p><p>After forty-seven excruciating seconds, and Divya was counting, the twin took a sip of his drink. And grimaced.</p><p>Divya held up his beer. “Trade?” He asked. Genial. Helpful. The kind of guy you’d want to be friends with.</p><p>“I’m alright, thanks,” the twin said, bitingly cold.</p><p>“Suit yourself,” Divya said, trying to sound like he didn’t care. “It just looked like your brother left you with something you didn’t like.”</p><p>“Tyler didn’t leave me with anything.” By process of elimination, this had to be Cameron. By process of observation, he was not here to make friends. “And I didn’t ask you.”</p><p>Divya didn’t have time to overthink it before someone took hold of his arm and shoulder, gently tugging him back. He started to jerk away, furious that someone would just walk up and start manhandling him like a goddamn child, but the guy, a lanky, well-dressed kid from the Econ group Divya had noticed before, tightened his grip like it was nothing.</p><p>“There you are,” he said, friendly and easygoing like he wasn’t simultaneously white-knuckling Divya’s shoulder. “I thought you were supposed to be my wingman tonight, you disappeared on me man!”</p><p>“Sorry about that, brother,” Divya said, wary but willing to play along. He wasn’t happy about whatever was happening but he sure as hell wasn’t about to say so in front of Cameron Winklevoss.</p><p>“Mind if I borrow him?” The guy asked Cameron, chagrined but playful. Fluid as a dog rolling over to show its throat.</p><p>“Be my guest,” Cameron said, holding up his drink in a little mock toast before backing off. What a fucking douchebag.</p><p>The guy directed Divya off to his little group, the arm around him looser and more relaxed but still very much steering him. Divya swallowed down a hot spark of irritation, felt it settle in the pit of his stomach and kindle into warm arousal.</p><p>Whatever.</p><p>Things weren’t so bad once he let himself get reeled in to the gentle ebb and flow of group conversation. There was a fair amount of crossover between Entrepreneurship Society and this bunch from the Investment Association, and Divya was able to coast on rounds of “Who do you know that I know?” until drinks were finished and people started checking their watches, murmuring to one another about getting to more important things: girlfriends, after-parties, off-campus bars that didn’t card.</p><p>Divya’s search and rescue officer — whose name Divya still didn’t know, only that everyone here kept calling him Miami Vice — winced after checking his own watch, a very expensive-looking one at that, and caught Divya’s wrist with an apologetic expression on his face.</p><p>“Hey, I should get going, but it was nice meeting— ”</p><p>“What are <i>you</i> in such a hurry for, we all know you’re just gonna get high in your room, Miami,” someone crowed; probably a senior judging from the fact that he was the least overdressed of the bunch.</p><p>Miami rolled his eyes good-naturedly, like a mom from a TV Land sitcom. “I’m actually meeting with some friends who <i>very patiently</i> allowed me to blow them off to be here tonight, so you could show a little more gratitude.”</p><p>“Suuuure alright.” The guy turned his attention to Divya. “What about you, big plans?”</p><p>Like hell Divya was about to admit that <i>his</i> post-party plans involved a theoretical statistics packet. “Getting high with him and his friends, obviously,” he said, jerking his head toward Miami. It was kind of an asshole move, inviting himself along, and it had certainly surprised him, but if Miami didn’t like it he wasn’t going to show it in front of his colleagues, throwing an arm around Divya like he did this sort of thing all the time.</p><p>“So you’re really up for it?” Miami asked when Divya followed him out, and then demonstrated with the kind of smooth hand gesture Divya had never seen a live person make outside of a DARE presentation. It was somehow cool and self-deprecating at the same time, and it startled a laugh out of him.</p><p>“Not like I have anything better to do, right?”</p><p>Miami clapped Divya on the back, rubbed briskly up and down before drawing away. All of the touching was starting to get less irritating, starting to feel like a separate extension of the invitation. “I knew you were my kinda guy,” he grinned.</p><p>—</p><p>“Hey, you shouldn’t worry about the twins. I heard they’re kind of assholes,” Miami declared on the walk to his dorm. He looked at Divya with this soft-eyed gaze that made him feel small, younger somehow. Like he was getting a boost after he failed to climb over a fence.</p><p>Divya wasn’t sure he liked that.</p><p>“Really,” he said, noncommittal.</p><p>“Yeah they only talk to, like, Porcs and hot girls.”</p><p>“I suppose I’ll know who to call then, if I happen to have one of either lying around.”</p><p>He honestly hadn’t meant it in a suggestive way, but Miami arched a brow and bumped shoulders with him as they walked.</p><p>“Suppose you will.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna lose sleep over it or anything,” Divya said, cycling back. “I just thought I’d say hi because we had a mutual friend. Got that over with, so … ”</p><p>“Oh your friend, yeah, ponytail guy? What’s he like?”</p><p>Warmth surged in the pit of Divya’s stomach and at the base of his throat at the idea that Miami had been eyeing them earlier.</p><p>“Total douchebag, so I probably should’ve factored that in.”</p><p>Miami laughed, high and unselfconscious. He swatted at Divya’s shoulder in that playful, bro-y way Divya had never quite gotten a handle on. “You need new <i>friends</i>, man.”</p><p>“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Divya said, rolling his eyes. “But by second semester junior year you just kind of take what you can get, you know?”</p><p>Miami looked at him with those soft eyes again. “Aw, you’re a junior?” He said the same way he might’ve said <i>Aw, you’re a virgin?</i></p><p>It reminded Divya of Adrian. He did not particularly care for it, and he huffed out a breath.</p><p>“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You just, you have a young face, it’s not a bad thing.”</p><p>“It’s the hair, right?” Divya asked, because, well, he might as well reach for a critique from an impartial source if he had one in his lap. “I was just trying it out, I know it’s not really working.”</p><p>The Kurt Cobain shag had been less an intentional choice and more a result of never having time to schedule a haircut, so he’d never really bothered with learning to style it. The only thing keeping it out of his eyes at any given time was—</p><p>“The glasses too, yeah, the hair and the glasses,” Miami said, and playfully pushed at Divya’s cheek. “And you have this round little face,” he beamed, “it’s sweet, man.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Divya snapped, genuinely irritated.</p><p>Miami sobered up again. “Well, you know, one networking tip that’s never failed me yet is that people will overlook a lot about you, stylistically speaking, if you have good hair.”</p><p><i>Is it really the hair or is it the fact that even your approachably untailored clothes cost more than my rent</i>, Divya thought but didn’t say.</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, voice level.</p><p>And then he bumped shoulders with him, because. Well. If Miami was flirting, and it <i>really</i> seemed like he was, Divya didn’t want to stall the momentum.</p><p>He was kind of annoying, and probably not someone Divya would want to follow up with, but — (and this was a little embarrassing, the Classics group would <i>definitely</i> have something to say about it if they knew) — Divya had never gone down on a guy before. And he wanted to get that experience over with when it was with someone he didn’t care about impressing.</p><p>Miami took Divya’s upper arm to lead him up the stairs at Quincy, and Divya’s breath sped up in a way that had nothing to do with the climb.</p><p>“Let me just grab my stash and we’ll go,” he said when they stopped at the door of a single.</p><p>Divya’s throat was tight, but he didn’t let that stop him. “We <i>could</i> stay here,” he offered. Like it was his room, his friends they’d be standing up, like he was in any position to be making <i>any</i> calls</p><p>“Hmmmmm I don’t think that’s such a good idea. A couple people just got busted, you know, hotboxing the bathroom, so everyone’s kind of— ”</p><p>“I didn’t mean we had to smoke.”</p><p>Miami swallowed hard. Divya tracked the movement before letting their eyes meet.</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he agreed, flushing, and swung the door open.</p><p>Divya kicked his shoes off and sat on the bed, let Miami take his sweet time untying his own shoes. He wasn’t going to rush him. He’d made the offer, so the ball was in Miami’s court.</p><p>And he really wanted Miami to kiss him first. Wanted <i>him</i> to acknowledge that he wanted it.</p><p>At the unexpected sound of Miami taking his belt off, Divya’s head jerked up. The sound went straight to his dick.</p><p>“Come here, come <i>here</i>,” Divya pleaded, forgoing his resolve of only seconds ago.</p><p>Miami peeled out of his pants — and that counted, that counted, he clearly fucking wanted it — and crawled on top of him.</p><p>Finally, <i>finally</i> their mouths met, and Miami was all over him, like all the teasing and shoving and manhandling was just building to this moment, lithe fingers frantically trading off between unbuttoning Divya’s shirt and rubbing at the base of his spine, running over his chest, over his arms, tangling into his hair and then back, undoing buttons, pulling it out of his pants until finally his shirt was on the floor.</p><p>Miami pulled away and appraised the Alice in Chains t-shirt Divya had thrown on underneath his button-up. “Good band,” he said, out of breath.</p><p> Divya huffed back, surprised. “You listen to them?”</p><p>Miami grinned like he was letting Divya in on a deeply personal secret. “No, I have no idea why I said that,” he said, and pulled the shirt over Divya’s head.</p><p>“I don’t either, it’s not like you have to impress me,” Divya said, working at his own belt.</p><p>Miami pinned both of his hands, pressed them down to the mattress. Divya’s breath caught in his throat.</p><p>“Still, you seem like you’d appreciate some effort,” Miami said as he relieved Divya of his belt, unbuckled his pants, and reached for him.</p><p>“Not yet, not yet,” Divya said, shoving his hands away and pulling at his shirt. </p><p>He made quick work of it while they kissed, Miami whining into his mouth when Divya got his hands on bare skin and then pushed him to lie back so he could look at him.</p><p>Miami’s chest was gold and perfect, and it made Divya want to sink his teeth into him, leave his impression like leaving the first set of footprints in newly fallen snow. He bit and bruised his way down, Miami’s approving dirty talk barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears, and then Miami pulled him back up to kiss him, quick darting kisses that barely gave Divya anything to sink into.</p><p>“Quit moving so fast,” Divya huffed, holding Miami’s face in both hands to keep him still. He kissed him slow and deep how he liked, pressing his thumbs at the hinges of Miami’s jaw so he’d open up wider, let Divya kiss him deeper and deeper. Miami pushed his leg up against Divya’s crotch and Divya moaned, shuddered, broke the kiss.</p><p>“So that’s how it’s gonna be, hm?” Miami asked, in a low voice that made Divya grind down against his leg. “You like calling the shots?”</p><p>Divya didn’t say <i>I have only ever gotten to this part before, with guys</i>. Didn’t say <i>There have only been two guys before this</i>. Didn’t say <i>I am so fucking scared of how bad I want you right now</i>.</p><p>He moved, regrettably, so that he wouldn’t shoot his load grinding against Miami’s leg before he’d even gotten his pants off.</p><p>Miami looked at him with those soft eyes again, like maybe he’d read his mind. It made Divya’s skin heat up.</p><p>Miami reached for Divya’s glasses, folding them and setting them down somewhere Divya couldn’t see — and great, that would be an exciting scavenger hunt later on — but Divya forgot to be annoyed about it as soon as he felt Miami’s tongue at his ear, felt his breath coming hot and fast.</p><p>“I want you to get that mouth on me, baby, I want you so bad, wanna feel you around my dick. Nobody’s ever fucking kissed me like that, it’s fucking obscene, you have no idea what you’re doing to me, <i>please</i>, you have <i>no idea</i>.”</p><p>Divya pinched him, hard, at the soft skin above the waistline of his briefs. “Thought I was calling the shots,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking, trying not to show how much that little speech sunk into his bones.</p><p>“Then call them, do something else, anything, do you want me to beg? I will start begging right now, man, I will <i>beg</i>.”</p><p>God, Divya <i>really</i> was not going to last if that happened.</p><p>Miami hissed when Divya pulled his briefs off. <i>Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink</i> it he told himself, and took the head of Miami’s dick into his mouth. Miami fucking jackknifed up into his soft palette, and Divya gagged.</p><p>“God I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re perfect baby that’s perfect please don’t stop,” he whined, and Divya thought, <i>alright, I can get used to this</i>.</p><p>It took some adjustment to find a good way to position his head. Divya wished he’d had the foresight to get on his knees on the floor, because his forearms ached where they were propping him up and his feet hung over the edge of the bed, with nothing to be done about that unless he wanted to kick them up behind him like he was at a goddamn slumber party.</p><p>Miami seemed to catch on that he was new at this after a little while, noises of encouragement going high and loud and pornographically unrealistic. It was condescending in a way that burned in the pit of Divya’s stomach, like he needed fucking blowjob tips after <i>Aw, you’re a junior?</i> and <i>People will forgive a lot if you have a good haircut</i>, like he was too fucking naive to tell that this was <i>fake fake fake</i>.</p><p>Well, he wasn’t. He was reading Miami’s little condescending performance for filth, and the thought made his blood pool low, made him roll his hips into the mattress for, god, anything, a <i>shred</i> of fucking relief. He moaned around Miami’s dick and Miami made a choked-off noise, surprised and real and Divya fucking lit up at it, burning and hot.</p><p>His throat relaxed and Miami fucked into him and it felt <i>good</i>, stopped feeling like an intrusion and started to feel like something sliding into place. Less like getting a piece of rubber shoved in his mouth to get his teeth x-rayed at the dentist and more like the snug fit of plugging his guitar into his amp. A hand curled into his hair, gentle but firm, pushing him down further onto Miami’s dick. Wouldn’t be able to do <i>that</i> if he’d had shorter hair.</p><p>Miami’s thighs started trembling. Divya felt molten. <i>I’m doing that</i>, he thought, utterly electrified. <i>I’m causing that</i>. He shifted his weight to one forearm and rubbed a hand over Miami’s left thigh. He had an even pair of surgical scars on his leg, and Divya ran the backs of his fingernails over them, scratched lightly.</p><p>Miami made a noise like a sob, arched his back, and spilled down Divya’s throat.</p><p>Divya only barely choked.</p><p><i>Not so fucking naive now</i>, he thought, dizzily unaware of who it was even directed toward.</p><p>“Come here, come up here,” Miami whispered when he stopped shaking, and pulled Divya against him and kissed him, deep and still and slow, the way that made him weak in the knees.</p><p>It was too much, and Divya never wanted him to stop except that he also wanted Miami to whisper encouraging and condescending things in his ear, and also he had never needed to get off so badly in his life.</p><p>“Let me take care of you, I’ve got you,” Miami soothed, and Divya tucked his face into the crook of his neck while Miami pulled Divya’s pants and briefs down.</p><p>Divya yelped when Miami started to stroke him. “Not so <i>tight</i>, jesus,” he said, and Miami snorted.</p><p>“How are you even still talking right now, you’re insane.”</p><p>“How have <i>you</i> not needed skin grafts by now, do you jack yourself off every night with that fucking choke grip? Just let me do it, just— just hold me, just let me do it.”</p><p>Miami, to his credit, did not get proud or offended, just kissed the side of Divya’s face and wrapped him up in his arms.</p><p>“If you wanna let me lie back,” he whispered, breath hot against Divya’s ear as Divya jerked himself off frantically, “you could come on my chest. Or my face, if you like that better,” he offered.</p><p>Uselessly, it turned out, because that was all it took to send Divya completely over the edge.</p><p>Miami soothed him through the aftershocks, hands gentle at his back, at the nape of his neck. Divya, whimpering, face tucked into Miami’s neck, felt small and unguarded, separate from his body. Exposed.</p><p>Nauseous.</p><p>He turned his face away when Miami started to kiss along his jawline. He felt dizzy, overwhelmed by sensation. He wanted to go home. God, he was going to have to walk home.</p><p>Divya felt split down the middle, somehow irreversibly changed while also not different at all. He had no idea what was shaking him up so badly. He hadn’t even gotten like this when he’d lost his virginity to his high school girlfriend.</p><p>Though maybe that was because he knew they’d talk about it later.</p><p>The idea of debriefing with Miami made Divya feel like even more of a loser than he probably looked right now.</p><p>“Can I have my glasses back?” Divya asked, and his voice sounded <i>wrecked</i>. Miami sat up straight, let the hand at Divya’s back fall to his side.</p><p>“Yeah, man, here,” he said, handing them over, and he sounded different too, careful in a way he hadn’t all night. He looked at Divya like he was assessing if Divya was about to cry, which he wasn’t. He <i>wasn’t</i>, but defensiveness made his eyes sting. </p><p>“I think I should go take a shower,” Miami said carefully. “You can wait up if you want, but you don’t have to.”</p><p>It was probably the most courteous thing he could have said.</p><p>Divya wanted to punch him in the stomach.</p><p>Miami wrote his phone number on an index card and left it near Divya’s discarded clothes. Divya took it, didn’t call, swept it into the trash after a few days.</p><p>He did schedule a haircut the next week, though.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to my girlfriend for letting me bounce ideas and run dialogue, you're the absolute best &lt;333 Thank you to phonecallfromgod for all the brainstorm sessions and videocalls and inspiration and for getting me into The Social Network in the first place. Thank you to evol_love for the beta and your incredibly sweet feedback, it's been so encouraging and I look back at your comments all the time. Much love to you all &lt;333</p></blockquote></div></div>
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